


Dreambubble

by AnabielVriskaMars



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 04:03:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1252030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnabielVriskaMars/pseuds/AnabielVriskaMars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You must have passed out right about the time Karkat started fucking shit up.</p>
<p>You figure this because you're standing in front of her</p>
<p>And for the first time in a long time, you're speechless, and you're ready to fuck timelines up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreambubble

This is a whole is a mess.

A real mess.

This is the kind of thing you would expect to see if the muppets of Sesame Street decided to take over the cast of breaking bad while being high on fucking unicorn dong or some shit.

The worst part is that everything was gradually piling up into a clusterfuck of psychotic Ronald McDonald wet dream, but it was so slow you couldn't really figure out how to react. It's like watching as a gigantic rubber duck comes your way and simply not moving because you're wondering why it has an eye-patch on its crotch.

Basically, you have on one hand, Egbert's psychotic yet strangely appealing mom.

On the other, Gamzee's beating the blind out of Terezi 

(You figure you should probably intervene there)

You also have Jade's pantaloon-ridden grandpa in the center of an explosion of bad swears and british slangs that frankly make your inner Texan cringe and shed an ironic Native-American-Commercial tear, though this is of course an elaborate metaphor.

Then there's the gigantic-haired individual that descended upon you as if she was the holy Jesus of macaroni and cheese and she was here to give you the last and best bacon strip in the universe while wearing questionably fashioned tights with a giant "H" on them, which you would assume meant "Harlot"

(Strider's got a vocabulary, to everyone's surprise)

These are all easy to deal with, actually. You've been up to your nose in puppet dong.

Bitch, this isn't even your final form.

There is one thing though.

Fucked you up all the way to Australia and back.

Someone dropped a house on Jade.

Nobody. Fucks. With Harley.

You figure you should help Karkat beat the faygo-ridden alien snot out of that clown-wannabe fucker with a messiah complex that feeds upon what you're sure is supposed to be a drug induced fever dream, or at least try to take down the annoying pantalooned freak before your inner Texan shoots the fuck out of his brains, or maybe even go help your likely inebriated sister who seems to be watching from the sidelines.

None of that is important, though, because Harley's down.

LOHAC, we got a problem.

You rush to her, with much the same conviction you rescued the Mayor with (not that you'll admit it, or even mention it to the Mayor), but before making it there, something throws you into a spinning frenzy that smashes you face first into the ground so you can taste the Medium's best sedimentary rocks. You tried to identify the source, but accelerating into your possible untimely death leaves little chance for dallying.

The blow knocks you out.

 

 

You're in your apartment. There're puppets everywhere. Lil' Cal is protruded against a wall held by one of the swords Bro gave you, and your smokin' new turntables sit in the corner of the room waiting for you to drop some sick beats, as they were before the Earth exploded.

"This is a pretty neat place you got," you hear. This voice, you remember in its sweetness, and not the anger you last encountered. You know you should turn slowly and bored, as if this is only a nuisance, but for the first time, you really don't care to look cool. You snap in her direction so fast that your shades slide ever so slightly down the bridge of your nose.

There she is: dog-eared, messy-haired, buck-toothed, god-tiered Jade Harley, in all her glory.

You want to call her name. No, the name tries to draw itself out of you. It rips from its cage in your chest and climbs up your throat and slams itself across your teeth and rides your tongue and pries open your lips to escape.

"Jade." The moment you say it, you become more of a person, because she is now complete and ready and her spot in your chest is no longer heavy but light with the space that it opens in you.

"Hey," she says. She smiles, but her eyes,

(her green wonderful beautiful eyes)

don't change. Her lips are pulled apart by something that is not joy nor humor. She doesn't want to smile and you know it because you know her and you know her because its her and no one else and you want to step closer but you can't you can't you can't because you know where you are where you both are but her eyes are there they're not blank and you tell yourself this over and over and you don't know what to do but she's there

"Its good that you're not trying to kill me this time," you say, but the words are gravel in your mouth because they are not her name.

She smiles and her eyes are the color of grass in a late afternoon after the rain is done and the clouds are gathered but it looks so dark yet it glitters with the scent of life and water and rain and this is the same because the storm is over for her but the clouds are still gathered and its beautiful but its dark so dark

"I'm not grimbark Jade... for now." She says, "though its funny, don't you--"

"We're in a dreambubble. I'm passed out and--"

"And I'm dead, yes." She cuts you off with a sentence delivered into your gut that punches the air right out of you. That space in your chest becomes ever so small and heavy and painful because these words take its place and they're heavier that anything you've ever felt. 

For a second she looks like a movie film gone wrong, like the take is not quite right, and suddenly she comes into focus again but her eyes are gone, and she only stares with two white orbs that manage to make you feel even worse, if that was possible.

"Callie helped me get this bubble. Its unstable and we don't have much time." She says. You don't care who the fuck Callie is, you step closer to her slowly, as if she's a deer ready to run at the first signal of danger. "Dave,"

The way she says your name changes the configuration of your bones. Your limbs feel like the felt Bro uses in his sick puppets, and you feel as empty as they must because the way she says your name is apologetic and final and you know what she wants to say but you won't hear it.

"We're gonna bring you back." The words rush out of your mouth like a river left unchecked. Her blanked out eyes somehow depict the sadness you know she feels because she wants to deny this. "I don't know how, but I'll be fucked by a horse if we don't."

"Dave, be reasonable--"

"You got the wrong guy for reason." You say. You figure that if you talk long enough, she can't say what she wants to, and it won't happen and it won't be real. "This is me, Dave, master of rhymes and irony, King of turntables and quips. As you see, I hold four entire kingdoms that say that you will come back with me. Reason can go fuck itself with a tabasco drenched cactus."

"This is the way its supposed to be," she says. "The Hero of Space--"

"Doesn't know shit. Here speaks the Knight of Time, if you wanna drag titles." You run over her sentence, even though your gut tells you she's right.

In the bottom of your soul there's a tiny little Dave. He's the Knight. He's heroic and selfless and he tells you that Jade is right, and this is the alpha timeline.

You indecorously tell little Dave to go suck his own dick.

"Dave, you're going to doom the timelines." She begs. You know every argument she wants to use, but you don't care.

"As opposed to creating a new world and ascending as a god to live for all eternity without your face around? How about fuck no. The Medium can take eternity and shove it up its own ass if it wants; I'm not leaving without you."

Its hard to see, but you think there are tears trying to well up in the blank eyes. You look away.

"Listen, Harley, if you brought me all the way over here to tell me that I better leave you dead, then I'm sorry for the wasted trip,"

Before you continue speaking, you feel a pressure in your hand. Its unlike any you've ever felt in the dreambubbles. From the corner of your eye, you see her tiny pale hand emerging from the imposing dark cloak she wears, and for a moment you feel her become the 12 year-old girl you've always known, and yes, loved.

"Dave," she says, her voice seems resolute. You turn around to see her, but the closeness of the blank eyes throws you off more than you thought. The reminder of the truth is too much like a knife nabbing at you. She tenses her hand and her voice grows serious. "Get your head out of your ass. You will not doom the timeline."

You feel that you both know that she's serious but you still don't give a shit and will do whatever you want, but part of you simply wants to fight her and be angry at her for letting this happen.

"Really Harley," saying her first name shattered you the first time, you don't know what it'll do to you should you repeat it. "You brought me all the way here to tell me not to bring you back? Because it seems like a highly flawed plan, in my expert opinion."

Her fingers lose their force, but they still grip yours. When she released her grip she drained your tension. You are barely holding yourself together, as if she's drinking the cohesion out of your body.

"I just didn't want the last memory you had of me to be of grimbark," she says, and suddenly all the heat in LOHAC can't warm you anymore.

This time its you who tightens the grip around her fingers. You draw strength from her. You look from your intertwined fingers to her face, and for a second she seems to feint, the green of her eyes flashing for barely a second; just enough for your heart to slam against your chest.

You almost think she hears it, because she leans close to you, and it frightens you how much your resolution grew.

She's close. If she had breath, it would be touching your lips and you just know that you'd be shivering. You lean closer and you're almost there and you've been thinking of this moment ever since you were 12 and you can't believe it and this is the most unbelievable part and you don't care that you're in the dream bubble and she's dead (for now) or that she was evil or that she has Bec's ears of anything at all because she's close so close and its almost there and

"David!"

You open your eyes and you're amidst lava and chaos and disorder and Rose's voice rings in your ears, but you don't give a shit.

You drag your Legendary Piece of Shit Sword out.

You'll make it work, even if you have to tear this session down and doom this timeline.

Little Dave doesn't give a shit anymore, either.


End file.
